


Brownie Thunder

by Still_beating_heart



Series: Yes Really, A Chipmunk [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And there's a cat in this one, Chipmunk Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Humor, I keep saying fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, i can't believe it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26314066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_beating_heart/pseuds/Still_beating_heart
Summary: “So you’ve been luring a stray cat to the edge of our property, and you didn’t expect her to go after your Scurry?”“My Army of Chipmunks!  And, um,” his hand rises to scratch the back of his neck, toeing through the dirt at his feet, “she just looked so alone and hungry.  And I just thought, maybe if she got used to me as a human, she’d recognize me as a chipmunk and I could train her not to eat my fellow chippies if I did things like steal her food.  Kind of like how you train a dog before you bring home a baby.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Yes Really, A Chipmunk [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911907
Comments: 16
Kudos: 138





	Brownie Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Culver's: Brownie Thunder. Chunks of chewy brownies and ribbons of old fashioned salted caramel collide with creamy Vanilla Fresh Frozen Custard.
> 
> Holy cow, right? So I've never tried it, but I saw it on the sign once at the Culver's and thought it was probably a heavenly experience. So that's the Brownie Thunder ice cream I am referring to when Stiles decides on the cat's name :)

Brownie Thunder

It’s not his finest. Okay? He knows it’s not his finest. He absolutely knows that. But knowing that doesn’t fix this. This! Being cornered by a vicious angry cat, growling at him and ready to rip him apart. Or clench her teeth down on his throat, rendering him dead in a split second! Dead!

“Derek!”

But Derek and cats? Oh this is bad. 

“I’m trying,” he grits through his clenched teeth. 

“You don’t look like you’re trying,” Stiles reminds him. And it’s not like he can shift back right here, in this tiny space that he backed himself up into when he was running from the cat, that he may or may not have woken up. On accident! When he was, um, stealing her food. 

“I knew it,” Derek tells him, unimpressed.

“I wan’t stealing her food! Not this time! I totally wasn’t! I was defending my brood, Scurry, I mean. You’re the brood,” he snickers to himself.

“You’re not funny.”

“Just a little bit though. I am,” he picks up a pebble that’s near his foot and tosses it at the cat. At the ground between him and the cat (he would never throw a rock at a living breathing furry beast that is so cute).

“No, that’s a terrible idea.”

“She bit off three tails! Derek! Three!”

“Yes, but she didn’t kill them, did she? She’s a predator, Stiles. They are chipmunks. I know you have made a special bond with…”

“A special bond?! A special bond! They are my pack! How would you feel if someone bit the tails off your pack?!”

“I think…”

“They’d grow back. Whatever, details,” he flips his hand and, “eeeeek,” jumps back when the sudden movement makes the cat lunge. And then the cat disappears and is hissing and spitting a growling, but at least it’s aimed elsewhere. At Derek! Who is holding her like she’s a dirty diaper or something and she’s scratching the shit out of his arms and wrists, “you could try to calm her, you know,” Stiles tells him as he slides between lattice waffles, whatever it is, and shifts back, “shh, it’s okay Brownie Thunder, I’m not going to hurt you,” placing his hands around her chest and pulling her away from her target. 

She calms immediately when Derek is no longer touching her, “Brownie Thunder?” his eyebrows are fully accusing Stiles of being an idiot.

“What?” he snuggles the cat to his chest, she starts purring, loud and unabashedly, “it’s my favorite ice cream dish, and she’s just all brown and white and spotted and she’s so cute,” he rubs his chin on her head for extra show.

“She’s not that cute. Plus,” Derek examines his arms, “she’s probably full of diseases.”

“No,” Stiles tucks her under his arm like he’s going to have to protect his precious princess from the big bag wolf, “she’s not! She is not. You would be able to smell it if she was. So use your senses, Big Guy.”

Derek sniffs the air, shrugs, “bring her to the shelter.”

“Like this?” Stile shakes his hips, letting his junk flop in the wind.

Derek grunts, “well I’m not taking her.”

“Obviously. But oh, too bad, it’s late, the shelter is closed, so I guess…”

“No. Never. No.”

“Oh come on!”

“No, two minutes ago you’re mad at her for biting the tails off your Scurry, and now you’re snuggling her like you’re best friends and she’s not a predator?”

“Okay, true. That is true. But if we keep her, we can train her. And we can make her aware of her ways. And I’ll stop stealing her food!”

“We’re not keeping her! She has a family somewhere if she has food,” he takes a step back, finally scanning over their surroundings, “really, Stiles? You’re the one who’s been feeding her!”

“How dare you?! I… it’s… she’s so cute!”

“So you’ve been luring a stray cat to the edge of our property, and you didn’t expect her to go after your Scurry?”

“My Army of Chipmunks! And, um,” his hand rises to scratch the back of his neck, toeing through the dirt at his feet, “she just looked so alone and hungry. And I just thought, maybe if she got used to me as a human, she’d recognize me as a chipmunk and I could train her not to eat my fellow chippies if I did things like steal her food. Kind of like how you train a dog before you bring home a baby.”

Derek’s eyebrows dip into a hundred different expressions of thought, and he gets stuck on, “baby?”

“Um, no? Why? Do you want a baby?”

“I…we’re not even…married. Yet.”

“Yet?” Stiles’s voice totally doesn’t squeak. Not in the least. And it doesn’t sound enough like a chipmunk that Brownie Thunder perks up and looks for the offender. He scratches at her ears and she relaxes into him again. Derek is staring at him, half stunned and probably panicking that he just admitted his intentions of marrying Stiles. Marrying Stiles! “Marriage is what brings us together…”

“No,” his hand comes up between them like a very calloused stop sign that likes to travel all over Stiles’s naked body. And it is still naked by the way. (It’s kind of cold out though, so no judging).

“To Brownie Thunder? Or to marriage?”

“At this moment? I’m going to have to say no to both, and get back to you at a later date on the second one. Since,” he motions in the air around them at all the things. 

“What? Chasing cats who are chasing your chipmunky boyfriend isn’t exactly romantic enough for you? I’m standing here naked, throwing myself at you and you…”

“Have a cat in your arms.”

“I do. I do indeed.”

“Set the cat down Stiles.”

“Why? So she can hiss and growl and claw you again?”

“And put some pants on. I’ll meet you back at the house.”

“I… Derek!” he snuggles his face against the purring mass of fluff ball in his arms, “and he’s off. Gone like the wind. Although I’ve never really understood that expression because it’s not like wind actually goes away. Not really, it’s just moving,” and now Brownie Thunder is jumping off, leaving claw marks in his bare chest, and, “ow, that was uncalled for,” but it was just from using him as a springboard, not an actual vicious attack, “don’t eat the chipmunks!” he calls after her, “or I’ll sic my werewolf on you!”

She’s gone now too. 

And now Stiles is standing in the yard in his full birthday suit. 

At least it is the yard. Private property for private parts. 

**************

Derek can hear Stiles whistling as he approaches the house, taking his sweet time to get back here. Probably enjoying the wind in his balls. Derek is surprised he’s not cold yet and hustling to get back to some clothes. 

But he is glad for the extra time so he can plug in some Christmas lights and at least make it look like he sort of tried, even is Stiles already changed his plans for him. He was going to bring him out to dinner next week, enlist Allison and Lydia to decorate the house while they were gone, and then propose when they got home. 

Derek knows, if the marriage question is left unanswered for too long, that Stiles will start to get insecure and think Derek doesn’t want him. Which is the last thing on the Earth that could ever be true. 

He can’t see his form in the darkness as he nears the house, listening to him crunching on the Earth underfoot, the way the dew-laden grass lays down under his weight and his footprints get left in the shining field of green. He stops at the bottom step, where Derek laid out his clothing for him. Mumbles something about, “our natural states are nude.”

Derek couldn’t agree more. Though there are certain things in life that are best done with clothes on.

Listening as Stiles bumbles with his clothes, his hip bumping against the rail every time he balances on one foot. The sound of his belt jangling while he leaves it open to pull his t-shirt on. Then, “shoes? No,” as he passes them by to finish taking the steps inside. 

His heart thuds hard in his chest. A gasp escapes him when he looks around the living room. The Christmas lights (maybe someone who’s entire family hadn’t burned in a fire would have lit candles), the flower petals (he had to improvise with what they had, so it’s whatever he could grab from the yard on his way in, and he didn’t want to demolish them and waste them so they’re mostly whole flowers), leading up the steps to their bedroom.

Derek kneels down on the floor in the center of the bedroom, trying to will his nerves to stay in check. It’s just Stiles. He reminds himself, chanting it internally as he listens to every step he takes towards the stairs. Where the trail was supposed to turn into chocolates but Stiles ate all those already so it’s peanuts.

“You know me so well Derek Hale,” he laughs, it’s a little high with nerves, but nothing that sets Derek on edge. Just the nerves of taking the next step, not the nerves of having to say no.

He managed to maintain a few Hershey’s Hugs for the very end of the trail to the bedroom, leading to the place where he’s kneeling, ring box open and in hand, the bottle of champagne (not chilling) on the nightstand. Clean sheets, bed made professionally with a few more handfuls off flowers in the center and the very first shirt of Derek’s that Stiles had made a nest out of when he first got turned. Just a reminder of how long they’ve been together, and how far they’ve come. 

He can’t help the smile that rises when he hears Stiles take a deep breath on the other side of the door, his hand on the knob and a, “please don’t wake me up if I’m dreaming,” before he pushes it open. 

His expression, at first with worried lines around the edges, breaks into a grin that threatens to crack his face in half with the potency of it. He’s silent. For once in his life, he’s silent. He takes the steps slowly across the room, eyeing the last of the hurried decorations briefly before he stops where Derek can reach his hand.

As his fingertips grace the pads of Stile’s extended fingers, they disappear like a bird in flight, Derek’s stomach dropping to his ass and worry rising in his throat in the form of bile.

“Wait! Wait, wait!” Stiles slides out on the corner of the bed, almost losing his footing, grasping for purchase on the comforter, ripping it half off the bed, but managing to stay on his feet, lunging for his side-table, he’s on his knees (on accident) when his hand slams down on the drawer, yanking it open and throwing everything out of it. Until he finds what he was looking for.

His heart is a wild thud, breaking against his ribcage when Stiles shimmies his way over on his knees, “wait, wait, wait. You don’t get all the glory,” he smirks, his hands rising from his side, popping open a ring box of his own, “I was going to do this next week, when we went out for dinner. Or maybe for your birthday next month. But, I mean, I guess,” his eyes find Derek’s and hold them. 

Everything that wound up so tight in in Derek in such a short moment, unwinds again and he breathes, watching those twinkling eyes soften, “shit, sorry, I freaked you out by bolting as soon as you touched my hand,” he scoots forwards on his knees until he’s right inside of Derek’s bubble of personal space. A hand rises, slides across Derek’s jaw, over his ear and comes to rest on the back of his head, “I love you Big Guy. And if you want to do this whole thing over again, I won’t blame you one bit. But I think it’s safe to say, we’re both on the same page about the answers. So, what do you say we get married?” his face is soft, his hand is warm, and Derek’s chest is turning to mush, he wants to say yes, or nod, or anything to convey his agreement, but he can barely breathe and Stiles rambles out a, “unless I totally fucked that all up just now and stole your thunder and you want me to try that entrance again without tripping over the bed and running for my ring so I could propose first, because it’s not like it’s a competition, so I should have…”

Derek closes the gap between them, crashing into Stiles’s mouth until he gulps back whatever further words he had, opening his lips immediately for Derek’s access. His body quickly goes lax, finding his way into Derek’s circle as he wraps his arms around him, pulling him as close as he can in the middle of the bedroom floor. 

Stiles’s laugh is muffled when their teeth clack together. Derek will never get tired of his over exuberance when it comes to kissing. It’s not always like that, only when he’s really excited about something, which is often, but times like this it takes him a moment. A moment to reel it all in. A moment when he’s too eager to get to Derek, to try invading his entire mouth and his entire being, like he can’t contain himself with his own skin and he wants to live inside Derek, wants to turn to liquid and be swallowed. 

Derek reaches over to set the ring box on the bed, without losing the lip contact, then slides both hands over his cheeks, feeling where a few tears have loosed themselves, slipping them away through his hair and tilting his head back gently to slow it down, to take control. Control that Stiles is happy to give. 

He hears the second ring box land alongside the first, and Stiles’s hands rise, one laying flat on Derek’s chest, finding the rhythm of his heart to calm himself, and the other on the small of his back. 

——————

When Derek wakes in the morning, he has a ring on his finger, a naked Stiles tangled up in his limbs. And a cat. A fucking cat. Sitting on the foot of the bed. Making a low menacing growling noise at him as soon as he looks at her. 

“Damn it Stiles!”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are awesome!


End file.
